Swamped

I have to leave much of August open, but that doesn't mean taking all of August off as far as writing is concerned, either.  My happy medium--since any day now I'll get the reading list for the master's course set for next spring, I'll include reading how-to books as part of my August goals.  I think I can manage writing a story too.  When I can I'll write on one of my novels.

August isn't usually a slow writing month for me but I've got a lot going on.  I still may use the hot part of the day to write or read and the cool parts to garden, but a lot has to happen in the month.  I've got a dead-deadline coming up for office remodeling, a big yearly party to plan and execute, have to move all the downstairs furniture and books and clutter out and tear out all the carpeting, and Gilder to frame for it.  I'm swamped!

I know, if I haven't got my health, I haven't got anything.  Right now I'm feeling pretty stressed and nauseated and I had a nasty headache last night (almost certainly from stress) so I've got to tone things down.  Writing goals are not usually my pressure valve.  I always write.  But things are especially pressed right now so I suspect that my ability to do all work, including writing, will be depressed and I'll have to scale back across the board.  While meeting major goals.

It should be an interesting month.

Budgeting for writing time

It's Tuesday again.  That means I'm going to be cranking out the words, enjoying some (mostly silent save the keyboard tappety tap) writerly companionship and drinking weird combinations of tea.  My favorite mix is mint and chamomile.  I have to grab an extra lid and not steep the mint as long or it completely overpowers the chamomile.

When I first started going to these writing meetings it was to get my writing out of my office.  Then I thought it would be good to get out of the house and socialize in general.  Now I'm having to actually budget my week to make sure I can attend.  I never, ever thought I'd be this busy.  I thought quitting my day job would vastly open up my schedule.  Ha!  That'll learn me.  More free time = more work time.  And my list is growing daily, so it makes writing time that much more precious.

I really have to get the mulch out of the back of the pickup truck soon, though.  There's huge dandelions growing out of it now.

On the good news front, I haven't heard anything yet from Writers of the Future.  Wish me luck!  And congrats yet again to C.S. for her Honorable Mention!  Woot!

Escape

My brain is looking for escape routes.  Yesterday I wanted to write on anything except what I was supposed to.  Last night I even came up with a new story idea.  This morning I came up with more ideas--luckily one was for Masks--but the primary idea was for a project that has been on a backburner and will probably stay there for a long time.  I can blame my heavy schedule for this bout of escapism, but that would be just an excuse.  I know how to kick this.  Write anyway.

Definitely owe INK a dollar, and considering Radcon, that'll be another dollar because I'm not going to get a sub in by next Monday either.  Might as well pay up now.  But hey, after Radcon I'll be home free for quite a while.  With two day jobs days of work a week, three max, and the fact that lately my schedule has been arranged so that the workdays are consecutive, I'll have a lot more free time to get writing projects done.  I'm really, really looking forward to that.  Radcon has become my Thunderdome, and all I want to do is get beyond it (she said, dating herself yet again.)  I'm sure once I get there, though, I'll have such a blast that I'll forget all about these silly things called deadlines and goals, at least for a while.

On Hold

I was aiming to have a short story ready for the next INK meeting. Turns out that isn't going to happen. I'm having a momentary slump in writing enthusiasm, brought on, I think, by a continuing level of expectation on my part that is unrealistic.

It stems from this overriding feelign that I've got to revise and edit several time over any story that I've written. Stack that on top of daily writing goals, the Reven revision, the desire to be working on Trinket Box, and a rather short time frame between INK meetings and INK submitting, and I'm afraid I'm drowning in words. Too many stories trying to crowd me at once. It's like trying to juggle babies. No one is having any fun.

So for this week, at least, I'm giving myself a breather to rethink what I think I should be doing. I have a great excuse, too, with tomorrow being my birthday. After tomorrow, I'll follow my gut and work on what feels right instead of what I feel I should be working on.

Full House

We've added a dog into the household mix Monday. He's a sweet, clever, friendly, loves to be cuddled boy. Part lab mix, two years old (as opposed to the original estimate of 9 months), very gentle with Kate and a little scared of the cats (a fact they use to their advantage).

The household has been a little turned on its ear this week. Not much else getting done around here, though I finally managed to do most of the dishes yesterday. Today feels like we're getting back to normal, well, a new normal since there is now lots to do with Beau that didn't exist before. Luckily, several of the things we do with him happened before he came, like going outside and taking walks and feeding the animals. But tossing a ball around for him is completely new (and very fun, he's so polite about dropping it). And the cats need lots of extra attention (demanding it, actually).

Today, though, I'm getting myself back into the daily routines. I will get my writing done. I'll finish laundry and dishes. I'll work on drafting up my script outline for Script Frenzy. I'll do finances and send in our payments. And I think I'll still manage to spend lots of time with Kate and Beau and TC. And write. Did I already mention writing?

Time for Sale

I've figured out a back door onto blogger so that I can post--hopefully this will do until I can update my confuter sometime in the distant future.

Working even part time has opened my eyes to the world of the writer-while-worker. I know that some folks, once they quit their day jobs and are able to devote full time to writing, get writer's block. (Oh, the humanity!!) Others blossom (go Ris!) though even those sweat and plan and juggle until they can really hit their stride. Coming from the other side, as a writer who had an entire day in which to work in writing, every day, year 'round, I've hit the wall of work interference and my nose is bruised.

It's not so much the five-to-nine hours I'm out of the house (up to ten hours if you include days that we close late due to customers plus commuting time and the leeway I give myself for arrival at the shift start) and can't write because I'm on duty. Well, all right, it is that because sh*t rolls downhill. At the top, by necessity, is work where I make money and where hours are regimented by The Big Man (aka Dan aka The Big Guy) and this presses aside all other duties normally assigned to me, including housework, laundry, gardening, and making sure the animals are properly tended to (never mind actually getting to play with and train the dogs, cuddle with the cats, do sudoku, watch videos with the family, and enjoy the occasional sit down dinner.) Before and after work, my other duties must be performed. Back in the day of total freedom, I could pick away at chores or even neglect them for days and later come back to them in a frenzy of cleaning. Well, if I do that now then more often than not the frenzy of cleaning must be put off until my next day off, which may not be until the end of the week. Then I have to prioritize for the day. Is it sunny outside? Garden! Is it cold/windy/rainy/all of the above? Tackle the laundry and dishes. Strip the beds and change the sheets. Vacuum. Clear away clutter and try to get something, anything organized. The day off is gone, and I haven't written a word except in my head where it doesn't much count.

I used to juggle writing and work. I used to work full time and write. Of course, back then, my house was even more gross than it is now and I got about four hours of sleep at a stretch. I can't do four hours of sleep or less anymore.

It doesn't help that my current job verges on full time more often than not. They're hiring again because we lost our receiving manager, which shuffled our hardware manager over to that department (he's actually trying to work both jobs at the same time, currently, which is fun to watch the tall thin man run all day.) As spaces get filled in as best they can, the hours shuffle around and land squarely on the part time staff.

Am I saying I can't write? No. I am saying it's hard, harder than I remember, and bushwacking my way toward editing Masks with my handy-dandy MacMachete (with a dull blade) is slow going. When I'm not working anymore, whether it's because I get published and need to meet deadlines, or work conflicts with daily life build to the point that I'm not willing to continue working (even for my fabulous employee discount and the ability to hammer away harder at debts and enjoy more vacations in Victoria or the coast,) I will definitely appreciate my freedom more. And get a helluva lot done in a day. I was such a slacker ...

So, a word of caution to those of you who have full time writing ability and are considering returning to work for grocery money or whatever--money is indeed not everything. Time is everything. Time.